


Eternity Gazing

by CherryMilkshake



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Backstory, Canon Expansion, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 18:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11296605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryMilkshake/pseuds/CherryMilkshake
Summary: Nailah, Queen of Hatari, chances upon a wounded laguz in the desert, despite the fact that bird laguz are supposed to have disappeared in the Flood. Little does she know how much this meeting will change her life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally updated from August 5, 2012 to October 23, 2014
> 
> Copied from FF.net for archiving purposes and more FE fic on AO3 purposes
> 
> With this fic, I wanted to explore Hatari culturally and write some sweet falling in love moments with Nailah and Rafiel, since they're already an established couple in the game. I hope you enjoy it!

_“Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.” -_ Khalil Gibran

Hunting in the country of Hatari was not a chore to be taken lightly. The desert offered little sustenance. This day was especially important, as it was a week until the Feasting Days, which celebrated the survival of Hatari in the face of the Goddess Ashuna’s wrath. Because of the importance of these festivities, bringing back a hyena or large bird was vital, so Queen Nailah herself was leading the hunting party.

Her pale fur glistened in the sunlight, her long tail sweeping side to side, giving signal to the other wolves behind her. Volug, her second in all things, followed at her right flank, his ears and eyes alert for anything. They were followed by three more wolves, two gray, one white. Serving as lookout was a young jackal, her nose twitching. Smelling something, she barked and ran ahead of the pack, indicating Nailah’s right.

Nailah barked an affirmation and held her nose high in that direction, picking up the scent of… something. Her nose didn’t know what it was, though it smelled vaguely bird-like and… laguz-like. Worried now instead of eager, she broke away from the pack and sprinted, only Volug, used to following her, able to trail behind her.

She caught the smell of feathers and blood and sweat before she scrambled up a dune and found the laguz. Yipping excitedly as she half-ran, half-slid down the sandy embankment, it took Nailah a moment to realize she’d never seen a bird laguz before. Sure, the old stories told of bird laguz—tall and slender, with pointed ears and graceful wings. But she’d thought them all long dead, lost to the Flood.

They were lying sprawled in the sand untransformed, the dust attempting to swallow their pure white wings. She caught glimpses of tattered finery crisscrossing their torso and legs, and blond hair matted and tangled, sticking to bare skin where it could be found, or else tangled out over their head.

It didn’t take a bird to realize that their wing really shouldn’t be bent at that angle and it didn’t take a beorc healer to realize they weren’t going to be waking any time soon—ever if they weren’t taken care right away.

She untransformed to make use of her arms, right as Volug slid down the dune behind her. The jackal was close at his heels. Judging from the yips and howls, the other wolves weren’t far behind.

Fatima, that was the jackal girl’s name, Nailah suddenly recalled and called the girl over. She bounded over and untransformed. “What do you need, my queen?”

“Go back to the city as quick as you can. Alert the court healer, tell him to be ready with his best magicks at the city gates. We’ll be bringing back an injured bird laguz, though I have no idea what species—” She glanced down at the bird again. “—or what sex.”

Fatima gave a quick bow with a hurried, “Of course, my queen,” and took off once more at a run, her golden-gray body disappearing into the sand.

Volug walked to Nailah’s side as she knelt and pressed fingers lightly to the bird’s neck. A faint pulse still beat there. “Good,” she said, mostly to herself. “Volug, help me get them up.”

Gently, the two wolves got their arms under the bird’s and lifted them into a sitting position, though their head still lolled forward in unconsciousness. _He,_ Nailah decided, glancing at the bird’s chest. He was lighter than either of them had expected, probably because he was rail-thin. “Volug, water.”

He took the canteen from his belt and opened it, holding it to the bird’s mouth. He didn’t respond. Nailah took the bottle and wet her fingers, bringing them to the bird’s mouth. Reaction, purely instinctual. Green eyes, framed by pale gold lashes fluttered open, and the dry mouth opened in turn, a high-pitched whine escaping his throat. Volug tipped the canteen into the waiting mouth, the bird’s once-pale neck, now red with the burn from sun and sand, shifted up and down as he swallowed.

Once Volug, Nailah and the three other wolves’ canteens were empty and it was clear there was no more water to be had, the bird passed out again. Nailah lifted him easily, situating him on her back. “I’ll have to carry him like this,” she said, hooking her arms around his legs. “Volug, I trust you can lead us home?”

He nodded and transformed again, lifting his wolfish head and howling toward the city. The gate watchmen howled back, giving them an idea of where to go.

She turned to the remaining hunting party. “You three, I’m counting on you to finish hunting. Stay close to the city if you can, so Fatima can find and join with you later.”

They nodded and transformed back as well, barking at each other and jostling for point position until the white one nipped at the larger gray one and took it. The three ran ahead as Volug maneuvered more slowly up the sand dune, looking behind him every few lengths to make sure Nailah was still there, carefully tending to the wounded bird.


	2. Chapter 2

They settled him in a guest room at the palace. It wasn’t especially grand, and for some reason, that bothered Nailah. When she would check on the bird, in between visits from the healer, she always felt like he deserved grandeur. Not opulence, but finery—silken sheets, gold and silver decorations, gilded book illustrations and the sweetest perfumes.

Instead, he got linen sheets and bandages, salves for the burns and rashes, steel scissors to cut away the matted hair, and a simple reading lamp on the clay bedside table.

“Healer, do you know what he is?” she asked, after the old man had finished with the bulk of his treatment.

The beorc wiped his balding head free of sweat and frowned. “To be honest, my queen, I’m not sure. He matches description of the heron clan, what little knowledge we have of them, but they vanished from the world after the Flood… supposedly along with the rest of the birds.” His old mouth puckered in thought. “He certainly is a little thing, isn’t he?”

Nailah frowned. “Do you think he could be a part of another band of survivors we don’t know about?”

“That is a question for a scholar, Your Majesty, and I’m only a healer. All I can tell you is that he’s weak from exhaustion, dehydration and starvation. Let him sleep, try to get him to drink at least daily, and ask him yourself when he awakens. That’s all I can offer you, my queen. Alert me if anything changes.”

Nailah assured him that she would, and let the man return to his other duties, namely, overseeing all the healers of the city. Most of them were beorc, but some of the Halflings were involved as well. They made excellent healers, because their lifespans were almost as long as a laguz’s, so they could learn more and perform their duties longer. 

For some reason, she couldn’t leave the bird alone. Though she came in and out, attending to her duties as Queen, her thoughts strayed so often to the white-winged boy that Volug got upset.

“My queen, please, I know you are worried about the bird, but this is your country! Please take your work more seriously. We are three days from the Feasting Days!” His mouth, usually blank, was set in a sharp frown.

“I’m sorry, Volug,” she said with a sigh. “He just gives me a strange feeling, like I’ve been missing something for a long time and now it’s come to bite me in the furry ass.”

That got him to crack a smile. “Well, we can’t do anything until he wakes up. I have Basil attending him as you asked, so he’s not alone. You’ll know as soon as he comes to.”

Basil was a big wolf with a deceivingly soft touch. He had five pups all his own and spent most of his days tutoring young children. Nailah felt he would be gentle enough to reassure the bird should he wake without her there.

Volug’s voice cut into her musing about her decision. “Now, can we return to the task at hand, my queen?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, Volug.”

+++

Her duties finished, Nailah returned to the bird’s room. Basil sat on a chair in the corner, reading quietly.

“Any change?” Nailah asked him.

Basil looked up and set the book aside, standing and stretching. “He woke briefly to drink the water on the table, but fell back asleep without saying anything, so I don’t think it was really conscious. He’s breathing easier though, so I think he’s in less pain.”

“Thank you, Basil. You may go.”

He bobbed his head and left, happy to return to his pups. Nailah walked to the bird’s side, brushing her fingers lightly through his hair. Volug stood in the doorway, his swishing tail the only indication of his interest.

“Where did you come from, little bird?” Nailah murmured. He was so _delicate_. Even just touching his skin, Nailah felt afraid that he would shatter, like crystal. It was amazing that he had survived his stint in the desert at all.

With a soft groan, the bird’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on Nailah’s face. “Where… Where am I…?”

“You’re in Oasisi, the capital city of the country of Hatari.”

He frowned and sat up, holding his head in one hand. “I’ve… never heard of Hatari.” His frown deepened as he looked more closely at Nailah. “What sort of laguz are you?”

“I am a wolf. What are you?”

He hesitated. “Heron,” he said at last.

“My name is Nailah, and I’m the queen of Hatari.”

“Rafiel.” His eyes fell to the sheet under his hands. “That’s all I wish to say for now.”

The sadness in his voice was palpable, and Nailah, curious as she was, couldn’t find it in herself to push him. “Very well.” She sat at the end of the bed, her tail sweeping elegantly out of the way. “Do you have any questions for me, then, stranger to Hatari?”

His stare was suspicious at first, but when Nailah quirked the eyebrow above her visible eye, he seemed to relax. “I suppose I have many questions. I don’t know where to even begin.”

Volug cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention.

“Oh, sorry, Volug. Rafiel, this is Volug, my vassal.”

The heron nodded his head. “Good to meet you.”

“If I could make a suggestion,” Volug said dryly.

Nailah waved her hand. “Go ahead.”

“Since the Feasting Days are almost upon us, why don’t we let the performances then answer his first questions? After all, there’s the story of the Flood on the first day, then your ascension on the second. The third is, of course, the Veneration of the Shield.”

Nailah considered this, then turned back to Rafiel. “Do you might waiting a day or two for some of your answers?”

He shook his head lightly. “No, not at all.” Slowly, he reached up and touched his head. “…where is my hair?”

Nailah had the grace to look a bit guilty. “We had to cut it. Much of it was matted beyond saving,” she explained. “I apologize, I should have asked first. I could call the court barber to make it more to your liking if you wish.”

He sighed and lowered his hands. “No, it’s quite alright. You needn’t trouble yourself, Queen Nailah. It suits me, I don’t wonder.”

She raised her eyebrow again. “I don’t think it suits you at all. It’s quite choppy and uneven and you’re much too lovely to let that stand. I’ll send for the barber tomorrow. Volug, remind me.”

He nodded.

“And while I’m thinking about it, Volug, fetch him something to wear. Preferably something with a shirt.” The gray wolf smirked and gave an exaggerated stretch, which threw the muscles of his bare chest into sharp relief.

And as if in spite of himself, a smile ghosted across Rafiel’s lips. It was only a moment, but Nailah decided that she thought it quite pretty. After a moment of silence, Rafiel’s stomach gave a mighty groan.

Nailah laughed. “I’ve been a terrible host, not feeding my guest! What do you eat, heron?”

He hesitated. “Erm, vegetables, fruits and nuts, if you have any…”

“No meat?”

Rafiel tilted his head. “I’ve never eaten it before, but I suspect it wouldn’t sit well.”

“Alright. Volug!” The wolf, having just left, poked his head back into the room. “Go down to the kitchens and see what you can find. There should be some cactus fruit from the rooftop garden at any rate.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With a quick bow, he was gone.

Rafiel fidgeted on the bed. “I’m sorry to impose upon your hospitality like this.”

“Nonsense. I suspect when you’re up for talking about it, we’ll have much to discuss about where you’re from. Somehow I suspect you have as little knowledge of me as I have of you.”

He nodded. “Wolves… exist only in ancient books where I hail from.”

“And herons here. Ashuna has mysterious ways. Perhaps matched only by Nyr.”

“’Ashuna’? ‘Nyr’?” Rafiel repeated the names slowly, as if they were strange cuisine. “I’ve never heard of these deities.”

“Do you have a god?” Nailah asked.

“Only a goddess, Ashera.”

“Hm…” Nailah wagged her tail. “An interesting thing. Ashera and Ashuna sound rather similar. Perhaps they are similar goddesses. Ashuna is a goddess of punishment and reward. Just as she rains destruction upon mankind for their sins, she raises them up for their virtues. Your Ashera?”

“Oh no. Ashera is a life-bringer, a goddess of light and birth. A goddess of peace.”

“A curious thing.”

Before they could continue, Volug returned with a loose night shirt and a tray. Several yellow-red fruits, covered in gossamer spines lay upon it.

“Ah, thank you, Volug.”

Nailah took the tray and shirt and lay them on the bed. She picked one of the fruits up carefully, positioning her fingers between the spidery pins. “Hold it carefully. The spines hurt, and take your claw…” She stopped, her other hand suspended over the prickly skin. “You don’t have claws, do you, Rafiel?”

He held up his hands in answer. Delicate, boney fingers and nails worn down by harsh conditions. No claws.

“Hm, I’ll cut these for you then, and arrange for… something.”

“Perhaps beorc cutlery?” Volug suggested.

“That’s a solid idea. Remind me to arrange that tomorrow as well, Volug.” She returned to the fruit in her hand. “Right, well, you slice the top and push it open.” She put it back on the tray and pushed it down, exposing the pulpy red center. “Then, just scoop out the fruit. It’s very sweet.” She used two fingers to hook the pulp free from the rind and brought them directly to her mouth.

Sucking her fingers clean, she prepared another two fruits and pushed the tray toward Rafiel. He tackled them uncertainly, but after a few attempts, managed to start getting the sweet, watery pulp into his mouth. Nailah felt sort of proud watching him, glad that he enjoyed the fruit of her city, even if he refused its meat.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next two days, Nailah attempted to get a look at Rafiel’s smile again. She had the court barber fix his hair, until it was short, but neat, ending just above his pointed ears. The tailor, after looking at what was left of Rafiel’s tattered rags, made him a simple, but elegant robe—the color of fresh cream and as light and soft as mist. The healer’s salves had also done their job, and the redness was fading from his skin.

Nailah was surprised to not see him fly, as she thought birds would enjoy it as much as she enjoyed running. “Perhaps he cannot fly in his upright state,” she mused to Volug, ignoring her duties once again. “Can he transform? Have you seen him do so?”

Volug shook his head. “Unlike a certain monarch, I have been busily preparing for the holiest dates on our calendar, rather than bird-watching.”

“Oh hush.” She tossed a quill in his general direction.

“You do realize the stirring his presence has caused, don’t you, my queen?” Volug’s ears twitched backward, his upper lip curling back with tension. “The very fact that a bird walks among us means that what we’ve long believed to be true is… less so.”

“He’s probably from another colony out in the desert.”

“Do you really believe that, after seeing how brutally the desert treated him? He is hardly of the type to survive in such a small group that we of Hatari have never heard of nor seen them.”

Nailah growled thoughtfully, her ears perked. “Where do you think he came from then, Volug?”

“I think he came from somewhere just as large, if not much larger than Hatari, with more than just bird laguz—he wasn’t nearly as surprised to see us as we were him.”

“I don’t know about that. He seems to me like he’s been through some sort of terrible incident. Maybe he wasn’t surprised because he was too worn-out to be.”

Volug shrugged. “That’s very possible as well.” His tail straightened sharply. “Now, Your Majesty, can we focus upon these last minute preparations?”

“Yes, of course, Volug. Forgive me.”

+++

As the sun fell in the sky, Nailah went to Rafiel’s room. However, he wasn’t there. Lifting her head up and sniffing quickly, she followed his scent. He’d wandered the halls a bit, but the scent was strongest near the stairs leading to the roof. He was there, his wings held open, though the right seemed to list somewhat. She recalled that wing looking “off” when she’d found him and started to ask, but he looked so peaceful; she didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, she walked to stand next to him, giving him wide berth. The setting sun painted the sky in reds and golds, gilding the edges of distant clouds. Stars were beginning to twinkle to the north and south, gems in velvet.

They watched the sunset together, not speaking. It was only until the last of the crimson faded from the sky that he turned to look at her, his face unreadable in the twilight.

“Have you eaten supper yet?” Nailah asked.

He shook his head.

“Then let’s feed you.” She paused for a moment, looking down at the city, where lights were beginning to twinkle in tavern windows. She was tempted to take him there and offer him beorc food. They ate more plants and such after all. But, at the same time, she remembered Volug’s words, and worried that she would make a spectacle of him.

He spoke for the first time. “I’d prefer staying here, if it’s okay with you, Queen Nailah. I’m not much in the… proper frame of mind for socializing.”

Stunned silence followed his words. “You… can read minds?” Nailah ventured at last.

He lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m used to people expecting it, I suppose. And not exactly mind-reading really, but I can follow the general feel and tenor of your thoughts, yes.”

Nailah let this sink in. She wasn’t sure if that disturbed her or not. She had never considered herself an especially private person, but the idea that this strange… bird could follow her thoughts so accurately certainly threw her off-center.

“…would you rather me not talk about them? Your thoughts, I mean.”

She took a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. I’d rather you act as you feel most comfortable. I may not be able to see your thoughts, but I know you’re feeling lonely and a bit scared.” With gentle steps, she approached him, passing the line of his wing and within his arm’s reach. She offered a hand.

Slowly, he slid his hand into hers. “I’m sure there must be something other than cactus fruit in your kitchen that I could eat.”

Nailah smiled. “I’m sure you’re right. Let’s go see.”

+++

They ended up raiding the beorc vassals’ foodstuffs. Nailah made sure to ask Volug to put in the order to replace it as soon as possible, but she was more focused on watching Rafiel eat. He looked much more at home with a plate of leaves, a handful of some kind of small nut and some flowers he’d picked from a vase on the way to the kitchen.

It was both enthralling and disgusting. The beorc at least usually served the leaves with meat of some kind, and she was almost certain she’d never seen them eat flowers, but here was this bird, happily picking them up with bony fingers and filling his mouth with them. He seemed especially fond of the flowers, for some reason.

He looked at her, a twinkle in his eye. “Is my diet really so bizarre?” He cracked the shell of one of the nuts with his front teeth and swallowed the heart.

“Honestly, yes. But I’m not one to insult my guests.”

“A good host.” He patted his mouth with a napkin. “Flowers are sweet, by the way. The nectar at the center is what makes them good, and the petals have a nice texture; silky and smooth.”

“So, it’s like a confection then? That’s how we wolves tend to treat the cactus fruit. It’s not very filling, but it’s sweet and wet, which is nice after a heavy meal.”

“You could think of it that way. Herons don’t really eat much. I suppose you could say we ‘graze’, eating a little bit here and a little bit there, rather than making an elaborate business out of meals the way beorc and other laguz do.”

“Then there are more laguz where you’re from, other than herons?”

His hand hesitated inches from his mouth and he set his bite down. “…yes.”

“Could you tell me more?” Nailah tried not to sound too eager, but her wagging tail somewhat gave her away. Oh, and the heron could read minds. Right. She wasn’t fooling him for a moment.

His lips twitched upwards, just for a moment, and his eyes relaxed. He brought his fingers to his mouth, swallowed and said, “I don’t see why not. There are many kinds of laguz where I’m from. Hawks, ravens, cats, tigers, lions… even dragons.”

Nailah’s eyes widened, both with shock and a little bit of fear. “You’re not from the desert then,” she said slowly, leaning back in her chair. “Volug was right. Your being here does bring many of our teachings and practices into question. So, all of those laguz survived the Flood?”

Rafiel nodded. His expression had turned guarded.

With a sigh, Nailah tried to let go of her own discomfort and leaned back across the table, closing Rafiel’s fingers in her hand gently. “That isn’t a bad thing. I’ll take truth over religion any day.”

Rafiel’s voice had turned even quieter, barely a whisper now. Nailah had to perk her ears forward to hear him. “You are like that, Queen Nailah, but there are those who would rather cling to dogma than value the lives in front of them.” His fingers trembled, and a violent shudder rocked his body. His eyes weren’t seeing Nailah—they were focused on a memory far away. “It was dogma that drove the madness. Beorc so wrapped in ‘love’ for Ashera and Her apostle…” He withdrew his hand from the table and hugged himself tightly, wrapping his wings over his shoulders as he leaned forward, squeezing his eyes shut.

Gently, he rocked himself with the balls of his feet. His right wing twitched with the strain of his holding it so tightly against his body. Nailah didn’t know what to do. She’d never met someone so _damaged_ before. She wished she knew what he was talking about. Ashera was his goddess, she remembered that, but what was an “apostle”? What “madness” did he mean? Clearly it was something horrible, but what?

She got up and walked around the table. Carefully, she slipped her arms up under his wings and held him, leaning her head against his. “Shhhh… It’s okay now. I will protect you, okay? I promise you that, and a Queen of Hatari never breaks her word; she would die first. No matter what happened before, I’m here now and I will protect you.”

She continued murmuring soothing words, gently rubbing his arm. After a while, he calmed down and quietly asked her to let go so he could move his wings. But to Nailah’s surprise, after he got up, he immediately put his arms around her neck and rested his head on her shoulder. After a stunned moment, she smiled and wrapped her arms around him properly, sliding them just under where his wings began.

“Thank you, Queen Nailah,” he said. “I give my sincerest thanks to whatever god allowed us to meet, whether yours or mine.”

She squeezed him just a hair tighter, ever careful of his tiny frame. “I feel the same way, Rafiel. Now, why don’t we go back to your room and let you get some sleep? It’s going to be an exciting day tomorrow, and I want you to be able to be a part of it.”

“Yes, Queen Nailah.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning started before dawn, as Nailah and Volug, as well as the rest of the castle staff and most of the city’s inhabitants prepared for the first day of the Feasting Days. Long tables were arranged down the main street leading from the castle steps down to the square and the fountain. A tall statue stood in the fountain, and Nailah nodded to it as she passed. She was looking forward to Rafiel learning who he was, even only if as a distraction from the ghosts haunting him.

The castle kitchen, as well as most of the city’s restaurants and taverns were cooking well from dawn, preparing enough food for the evening. Hunting packs were sent out and returned quickly, Volug and Nailah sending them to places that needed additional meat, while the actors and singers gathered in the great halls of the castle to practice their performances for the night.

Nailah was running from morning to dusk, but it all came together, just like it always did. As the sun sank behind the buildings, the street lamps were lit and the food started being brought out.

Laguz carried the huge trays of meat and other fare from the various kitchens, while the beorc laid out tablecloths, cutlery, napkins and serving dishes. In the square, the stage had be set up in the usual almost-square—with one side only half-blocking the street—and the white curtains had been hung across the back and sides to serve as a place for the actors to rest and hide until their roles. The rest of the city’s inhabitants waited in the street expectantly, waiting for their Queen to make her formal entrance from the castle steps and declare the beginning of the Feast.

Nailah, after dressing up in her formal attire—which wasn’t much different from her usual attire; just the addition of more gold jewelry and a long white cape—found Rafiel staring out the window, watching parents hold back squirming children from the food, apparently marveling at the sight.

She walked toward him and offered an arm. “Come, Rafiel.”

He stared at her in confusion.

“You will accompany me tonight, as my guest of honor.” She offered her arm again. Then quietly, she added, “I will protect you, no matter what.”

Satisfied by this, he laced his arm through hers and walked out onto the steps.

“People of Oasisi! Let us give thanks for all you see before you! Let us celebrate another year of Nyr’s grace and pray for a tomorrow of Ashuna’s reward!”

The people cheered.

Nailah raised her free arm. “Now, let us show our thanks by partaking of this bounty!”

They cheered louder and suddenly every table was swarmed with eager customers. The merchants fielded them with practiced ease, and Nailah led Rafiel down the steps, into the crowd. She felt his grip grow tighter, but she tightened hers as well and nodded her head behind her. Rafiel turned slightly, and saw Volug following close behind, accompanied by three other gray wolves. They spread out and took positions around the pair, two in front, two behind, with Volug standing at the Queen’s right, watching her back.

She leaned into Rafiel’s ear. “No one will mess with my guards, especially not Volug.” She smiled at him reassuringly, and brought him to one of the castle tables.

The chef was a small and portly beorc woman, who smiled at Rafiel. “So, I suppose you’re the one who ate all my spinach!” She laughed. “Here, I made some vegetarian dishes just for you. Queen Nailah mentioned you liked the desert lilies, so I garnished the plate with them.” She held up a dish of assorted greens, lightly cooked and seasoned, and indeed, garnished with a small bouquet of purple and white lilies. As Rafiel took it, she talked about the two other plates that she’d made for him. “Tell me which you like best, and I’ll be sure you’re served a proper dinner at night, instead of forcing you to resort to raiding my cabinets!”

Rafiel thanked her profusely and tried each one, deciding that he liked the first dish best, and took it with him as Nailah led him down the street, sampling bits and pieces from each table. She grinned as she licked her lips. “I love the people of my city so much,” she said warmly. “They put so much heart into everything they do, beorc and laguz alike.”

Though there were stares at Rafiel’s wings, there was no hostility, only curiosity. More than one child broke away from their parents to come up and ask him where he was from and how he got such pretty feathers, before a mother or father scooped them up and apologized. But Nailah didn’t see any fear in him, and that made her even prouder of her city and her people.

They made their way down to the stage, where people were already beginning to cluster around the edges, holding their food in napkins or hands, eating and talking and laughing. Nailah led Rafiel behind the back curtain and showed him the fountain.

The statue was of a man leaning against a tall shield. He had wolf ears, but no tail peeked out from the side of the shield. Curious, Rafiel walked behind it, but the statue had no tail at all. He returned to Nailah’s side. “Who is it?” he asked.

“This is Nyr. He is our protector. He is neither beorc nor wolf—something between, but he is also no Halfling. He is just… Nyr.”

“He reminds me of certain depictions of Ashera,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe it’s in his face…” The statue’s expression was calm, but watchful, looking toward the palace with subdued confidence.

“I don’t know Ashera, so I’ll trust your vision on the matter.”

Rafiel smiled. “As well you should.”

She smiled back at him. “Come, you don’t want to miss the show. I think it will answer a lot of your questions about Ashuna and Nyr much better than I could.”

They walked back around the stage and Nailah took her privileged place at the front, standing in the gap next to the front part of the stage. After another few minutes, when the moon began to peek over the tops of buildings, an old woman emerged from the side curtain and walked to the front of the stage, supporting herself with a thick wooden cane.

She was a Halfling, and her Mark took up the left side of her face, long curves that resembled a wolf’s claws. She sat at the edge of the stage and looked out over the crowd. Aside from the soft chatter of the people still eating up the street, all was quiet. The narrator cleared her throat and set her cane across her lap, closing her eyes.

“This tale begins, as most tales do, at the Beginning. Beorc and laguz lived in the Garden of Spring, a place of harmony and peace, and the goddess Ashuna walked among them, spreading her bounty. Beside her, closer than her shadow, was her brother, Nyr. He gave no gifts, but administered no punishments by the same token. Aside from minor squabbles here and there, the gods were pleased.”

Two actors walked onto the stage. One was a white wolf, the other a young beorc. They entered side by side, as partners and equals.

“Then, one day,” the narrator continued, “two young men, one laguz, one beorc, entered into an argument about who was truly the ‘more powerful’ of the two races.”

The wolf puffed himself up and raised his tail. “Clearly laguz are superior, for strength is the greatest power necessary.”

The beorc crossed his arms and turned to face the laguz as an adversary. “No, strength is useless if not tempered by wit, and besides, magic outclasses brute strength in every situation.”

“Clearly, the two were at odds, and they saw only one way to settle their differences. They dueled.”

The two actors began to fight. The wolf transformed, growling and circling the beorc, who held his fists up and tried to attack.

“However, despite the beorc’s love of magic, he was no mage himself and quickly found himself losing. He tried to surrender, but full of pride and bloodlust, the laguz fell upon him and slew him.”

The wolf leapt upon the beorc and brought his mouth to his neck, where the beorc cried and clapped a hand to it, bursting a small bag of red dye that quickly soaked into his white shirt and stained the wolf’s snout.

Rafiel gasped before he figured out the trick, and gave Nailah a sheepish look at she smiled.

“The foolish laguz ran off to brag to his friends about proving the superiority of their kin, failing to see the horror of what he had done.”

As the wolf ran off, a beorc woman ran onto the stage and collapsed in front of the fallen beorc. “Brother!” she cried. She raised a tear-stained face to the crowd, then turned to look where the wolf had left. Her features contorted in rage and she stood. “This will not stand!”

As she carried her brother off-stage, the narrator continued. “The sister rallied the beorc against the ‘murderous monster’ and his kin. However, the laguz refused to surrender him, claiming the duel had been fair, and that death had been the only possible end.”

The red-mouthed wolf, flanked by two other wolves stood on the opposite end of the stage from the beorc sister and another three beorc. “He slew my brother!” the woman cried. “And I demand justice! Give him to me, that we may duel!”

The woman wolf laughed. “Go away, little beorc. He defeated your brother; he will just as easily defeat you. You and your kin are weak. Accept it and move on.”

The sister was pulled off-stage by her followers, leaving the wolves to continue laughing as they left on the opposite side.

“But the sister hungered for justice, and would not rest until she had found it.”

Lamps were lit behind the back curtain, showing the silhouette of a sleeping figure. A beorc woman’s silhouette appeared on one side.

“She concocted a plan. One night, she snuck into the ‘murderer’s’ home, and crept to his bed…”

The silhouette raised a large knife over her head.

“…and stabbed him, again and again…”

She brought the knife down onto the sleeping shadow’s chest, her movements wild. A piercing howl cut through the night.

“…until the laguz lay dead. Then, she cut off his head…”

The silhouette lifted a wolf-head-shaped shadow.

“…and put it on his doorstep, as a warning to others.”

The lamps behind the curtain were extinguished and the sister, now covered in ‘blood’ and wielding a red-dipped knife, reappeared on stage.

Wolves, more now, appeared opposite her, snarling.

“But now the laguz were angry, because the beorc hadn’t formally challenged him. He had died in his sleep, unable to fight back. They cried about ‘injustice’.”

More beorc appeared behind the sister, some holding weapons, the others wielding magic tomes and staves.

“The beorc retaliated with their claim that he had refused her challenge, and that the initial duel had not been meant as a duel to the death in the first place.”

The two groups began to fight silently, as the narrator continued.

“Bloodshed begat bloodshed. The beorc’s sister was slain by the laguz’s brother, who was slew by the sister’s husband, who was killed by brother’s father. It wasn’t long before it was all-out war. Mothers and children were forced to hide in huts and cellars, clinging to one another as they listened to the screams outside.”

Soon, all the actors were ‘dead’. A new actress, dressed in white robes and shining silver jewelry, stepped onto the stage. Her hair was long and black, set in a mass of tiny braids that glittered with the silver ribbons woven into them as she stepped. She surveyed the carnage with disappointment.

“The goddess Ashuna, seeing the destruction, knew that the people she’d loved so deeply were beyond hope. With a heavy heart, she passed the ultimate punishment—annihilation.”

The goddess raised her hand and a wave of water, supported by six actors, came out from backstage. It rippled and moved, and as it passed over the ‘dead’ actors, they rolled backstage. As the wave headed toward the far end of the stage, another god appeared. He was played by a tall wolf, who had hidden his tail in his loose pants. A chest-plate of gold hung over his otherwise bare chest, and he carried gold-inlaid shield. A young wolf and beorc hid behind him.

“The god Nyr took pity upon the wolves, who had abstained from fighting as best they could, and had gone so far as to defend the beorc who fled to them for help. He shielded them from Ashuna’s Wrath, and brought them to a land too dry for the torrent to reach.”

The wave retreated across the stage until it was completely gone. Nyr rested a hand on each of his followers’ heads. “You are proof that Ashuna’s judgment was too rash. Remake this world in your image. Learn from the folly of the past. And one day, Ashuna will see fit to reward your goodness in the face of such horrible tragedy.”

As he walked off stage, the two followers locked hands.

“Manaat, the leader of the wolves, made a promise with Amm, the leader of the beorc refugees, that they would always care for each other’s tribes as well as they would their own. They swore loyalty for as long as the desert wind blew, and sealed this with their marriage.”

The wolf woman kissed the beorc man, and other actors appeared from either side of the stage, applauding.

As the actors left the stage, the narrator stood. “As it was then, so it is now. Hatari lives on the harmony of laguz and beorc, and one day, we will receive Ashuna’s Boon and finally leave this desert, and walk freely in the Garden of Spring once more.”

The crowd clapped and cheered as the narrator walked off the stage, followed by the actors. Nailah brought Rafiel back to the statue of Nyr.

“Do you understand us better now?” she asked.

He nodded, looking up into Nyr’s gentle eyes. “Hatari is a place built on beautiful ideals. I am surprised at your accepting of the… Halflings. Where I am from, they are treated a pariahs, as desecration of the Goddess. I must admit, I do feel a certain… disquiet around them.”

Nailah thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said slowly. “They do carry with them a strange air, but I don’t find it bad, but rather, mystical. They are special, I think. Peculiar, but not bad.”

“But, what about their parents? Don’t laguz parents… lose themselves? Why would any god or goddess inflict such a punishment if such practices were… good?”

Nailah sighed and rubbed her ears. “I’m no priestess, but I can tell you how I see it. Here, the utmost respect is given to those laguz parents who choose to give up their transformation for the sake of their children. Manaat, the first Wolf Queen, was the first, after all. She wrote in one of the ancient texts, ‘I give my magic to my children, in the hope they will carry it into the future.’ It’s a great sacrifice, but no laguz parent must make it alone. They have their families, and they have the comfort of other laguz parents who made the same choice.” She hesitated. “I don’t think I could ever choose that path, but I do not judge harshly those who do. I appreciate what the Halflings do for my country and my city. They are a great asset, so to disrespect them is to disrespect the sacrifice their parents made for them.”

Rafiel stared at her thoughtfully, while she floundered. What was he thinking? Did he hate her now? Finally, he turned his eyes to the water in the fountain. “Where I’m from, the ‘Halflings’ are deemed ‘Parentless’, and any laguz who loses their transformation is subject to strict scrutiny and often ostracizing from their communities and families. Your way may not be ‘right’ in the eyes of the goddess, but it is surely the more humane, so perhaps it _is_ better in the goddess’s eyes.” He rubbed his arm nervously. “I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense.”

She put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a light squeeze. “It’s okay. I wasn’t either, really. Want to get some more food?”

And he chuckled and shook his head. “Yes. Yes, that would be wonderful.”


	5. Chapter 5

Nailah woke early once again, though preparations for the second night were never as involved as the first. The tables and stage stayed in place, so most of the work was just making sure all the cooks had enough food again. This time though, Rafiel trailed behind Nailah while she worked. They came across an older man, who was struggling to lift a heavy roast out of his oven. The heat was oppressive, and the man was tired. Nailah moved to help him, but Rafiel held up a hand to stop her.

He began to sing. His voice was a smooth tenor, somehow cutting through the chatter and noises of work from the street. Blue strings of light appeared and wrapped around the man, embracing him. They fell away as Rafiel stopped, and the man straightened, cracked his neck and removed the tray with ease. He stared in wonder at Rafiel, who folded his hands demurely and continued to smile.

It took all of Nailah’s self-control and sense of decorum not to gape. “Rafiel, what was that?”

“Seid magic. It’s the magic of my people.” His voice softened at the last sentence, his gentle smile slipping away.

“Well, it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard,” the man said, smiling. “And it made me feel twenty years younger! I’m much obliged.”

Rafiel bowed his head. “It was no trouble. I’m glad I was able to help.”

As Nailah and Rafiel left to attend to others, she said to him, “You have a very beautiful voice. What exactly is ‘seid magic’?”

“I guess you could call them sung spells. The songs are called galdrar, and they work through words and melody.”

“So, could I do it?”

Rafiel smiled. “No. Only those with a strong center of order can sing a galdr.” He paused, and frowned again. “It wasn’t until today that I was even capable of singing one. Before I felt too, well, chaotic, for lack of a better word. Too much… happened.” His voice shook. “I’m sorry, Queen Nailah. I’m sure you’re sick of hearing me say how I can’t talk about it, and yet I keep acting like this and teasing you.”

Nailah stopped walking, turned and puts her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Don’t be absurd. I would never put my curiosity over the pain you so clearly carry with you.” Slowly, tenderly, giving him a chance to pull away, she touched her lips to his forehead. “I trust you will tell me when you’re ready to.”

He put his hands over hers, and she was surprised at how cool they were to the touch despite the hot sun overhead. He took a deep breath, then smiled that gentle smile once more. “Thank you. Thank you for… well, everything.”

“You’re more than welcome. I’ll ask only one favor.”

“Of course.”

“Would you sing for me tonight, after the festivities are done?”

He chuckled and swept her a bow, lifting his wings. “It would be my greatest pleasure, Your Majesty.”

+++

As night fell once more, food once more filled the street tables, and actors practiced their roles in the castle hall. The castle chef made even more vegetarian dishes for Rafiel to try, and they were just as delicious as the last ones.

As Nailah and Rafiel walked down to the stage, she looked at him. “Do you like it here, Rafiel?”

He thought for a moment, looking around at the crowd, watching the easy interaction of laguz and beorc, the warm glow of the streetlamps, the children running around. “Yes,” he said at last. “I do. It is a beautiful city, full of very kind people. I’m glad you found me.”

“I am too.”

They arrived at the stage. “This show is shorter, and there’s not as much narration, so I’ll give you some where you’ll need it.”

He nodded as the actors emerged. The woman leading them was a beautiful white wolf, wearing a wrap over her right eye, just as Nailah did. He gave Nailah a questioning expression, to which she smiled and winked.

Five other actors, two wolves, two beorc and a Halfling, appeared from the other side. Nailah leaned into Rafiel’s ear. “That is the Council. They judge the Ascension Contests that determine who will rule Hatari.”

Behind the Nailah actress came a broad beorc man. A spell tome was tucked under his arm.

The person at the center of the Council, an old wolf man, stepped forward. “Today, we shall preside over the contest of Strength. First, will be the test of force.” One of the other Councilmen set out two straw dummies. “You are allowed one hit. Whoever does the most damage is declared the winner. Both brute strength and magic are allowed.”

“Nailah” went first and transformed. With a snarl, she got a running start and leapt upon the dummy, hitting all four of its limbs with hers and tearing through its head with her jaws. Rafiel winced at the sight.

But the mage stepped forward next, murmuring a spell under his breath as fire gathered at his fingertips. He launched the fireball at the dummy, incinerating it.

The councilmen gathered and whispered to one another briefly, then parted. The head councilman cleared his throat. “Point one to Imara.” The beorc man bowed respectfully. On the stage, “Nailah” untransformed, looking unhappy.

“Next shall be the test of skill.”

As Rafiel watched the remaining tests of physical ability, Nailah explained some of the subtleties and gave some critique on the actors’ performance, correcting some of the exaggerations and simplifications.

Though “Nailah” fought fiercely and well, the beorc Imara took the contest of Strength by a narrow margin of three to two. His victories were in force, skill and reach, whereas Nailah’s were in adaptability and endurance. The audience cheered, enjoying the familiar drama of what many of the adults had seen with their own eyes. “Nailah” kept her face stoic as Imara was presented with the first of three medallions. It glinted in the streetlamps, the first letter of “strength” raised upon the face of it.

Another Councilman stepped forward now, a beorc woman with wrinkles as deep as the folds in her robes. She held an ancient book her arms. “We shall now commence the contest of Wisdom.”

Nailah leaned into Rafiel’s ear. “Actually, the contests take place over three days, but the plays are always condensed for the sake of brevity. Everyone will see an Ascension in their lives, so that inaccuracy doesn’t really matter.”

“Even beorc?” Rafiel asked. “How? You will far outlive them, won’t you?”

“So what? The contests take place every twenty years. The current ruler decides whether they will compete again, or step down and have two new challengers be chosen. Who would want to rule for an entire lifetime? Many former rulers are chosen to join the Council.”

“What if you have a ruler who refuses to relinquish their power?”

“Then Nyr sees fit for the challenger to win.” Nailah held a finger to her lips and looked back at the stage. “Watch, and you’ll see.”

The tests of Wisdom consisted mostly of answering questions about Hatari and responding to possible scenarios that could confront her. After a brief consultation, “Nailah” was declared the victor, and she bowed forward to receive her first medallion. This one had the first letter of “wisdom” emblazoned upon it.

“How many contests are there?” Rafiel asked, watching Nailah’s actress try and fail to keep a grin off her face.

“Three. The first two are tests of ability, but the last is different. You’ll see.” She pointed back up at the stage.

The Councilmen spread out along the back of the stage, and pulled down the back curtain, revealing the statue of Nyr behind it. Along the fountain’s rim, candles burned, throwing their flickering light over the water.

The two actors playing Nailah and Imara lifted two similar candles, which were lit by another Councilman, this one a Halfling whose smooth face belied her true age. They then turned and stepped off the back of the stage, placing their candles with the others on the fountain rim, then stepping sideways to allow the audience to see. The twin candles were taller than the others, and burned more brightly, lighting up the statue’s features.

The flames made the stone of the statue shimmer and glitter in a way that couldn’t be seen in daylight and made Nyr’s expression seem to shift and change—a stern parent one moment, a benevolent guardian the next.

“The candle that outlives the other is said to have gained Nyr’s favor,” Nailah explained.

“But what if a person wins the first two contests, but loses Nyr’s favor?” Rafiel asked. “You would allow them to rule?”

“For half the usual time. Then, another contest is held.”

“Ah, I see. And that is how rulers are replaced as well. If they lose Nyr’s favor and are bested at even one contest, they cannot continue.”

“Exactly.”

Imara’s candle flickered in the breeze, then went out, releasing a small stream of smoke into the air.

The Councilmen wrapped a cape, the very same one that Nailah had draped over her shoulders, over the actress’s and a cheer went up from the crowd. Imara held out his hand and the two former rivals shook hands, their grips firm. It was a gesture of goodwill and solidarity.

And so the show ended, with all the actors taking their bows and going to go change and eat. Nailah yawned, fully intending to go back to the palace and get some sleep, but Rafiel walked toward the fountain and looked up once again into the statue’s face, as if trying to read it.

“Nailah’s” candle was still burning brightly, lighting the water and Rafiel’s pale face, making it glow. He hummed as he watched the candle flame, holding his fingers above it, just far enough away to not burn his fingertips.

“Your gods are so close,” he said after a moment. “Even though this is just a statue, just a depiction of him, it’s as if I can feel his presence. It’s so strange. You’d think a god wouldn’t want anything to do with someone who doesn’t worship him.”

“Nyr isn’t the kind of god to care about that. He loves people. All people, no matter who they are or what they do. Ashuna is the one who wants us to rise above what we are. It isn’t a bad thing, but it does put her more… above us, I suppose you could say. We aspire to please her, but if we fall short, Nyr is the one to catch us before we hit the bottom… if that makes sense.”

Rafiel nodded, watching the candle still. “I find myself liking your gods more and more. Ashera is aloof, not uncaring, but not quite as part of everyday life as Nyr seems to be. It’s nice, to feel his presence, knowing that someone is watching over you.”

 _Did Ashera abandon you?_ The question stuck in Nailah’s throat, but she knew he’d felt the question from the way he turned his eyes to the water, his hand moving up to grasp his arm.

“I feel that She did. Sometimes. Other times, I scold myself; tell myself that She would never do such a thing.” He hesitated. “But if that’s the case, that would mean the madness was something She, if not approved of, certainly didn’t feel like stopping.” He hugged himself tightly, pulling his wings close. “And that just makes me sick to my stomach…”

Nailah put her arms around him, tucking his head under her chin. “Shh… It’s okay. You promised me you would sing for me tonight, didn’t you? You can’t wrap yourself up in these painful thoughts if you’re going to sing.”

And Rafiel smiled and closed his eyes, leaning into her collar. “You’re right, my queen. I apologize.”

And so the two walked back to castle, flanked by Nailah’s guards. Rafiel, instead of returning to his room, followed Nailah to hers. It was his first time inside, so she gave him a moment to admire the elegant gold inlays in the stone, and the soft fabrics that draped her chairs and bed.

She yawned and removed her cape, handing it to Volug to put away. Next were the purple tassets that hung from her belt, shielding her upper legs. Volug hung those in their place as well, followed by the belt and the deep red skirt that was attached to it.

She was left in her black shirt and cream-colored half-tunic, which she would remove after the two men left her chambers. With a yawn, she sat on the bed and unstrapped her sandals, setting them next to her nightstand. Finally, she lifted her hair and turned, letting Volug unfasten the thick gold collar around her neck. That was placed on a special stand on her dresser.

With a nod, Nailah dismissed her vassal for the night, leaving her and Rafiel alone. She fluffed the pillows and leaned back into them, looking up at him expectantly. “Will you sing for me now?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

This song was unlike the one he’d sung for the cook. Instead of invigorating her, the gentle, soft notes seemed to weave a blanket for her thoughts, calming them, tucking them in and telling them to sleep.

Her eyes soon followed her thoughts, forgetting that they were supposed to stay open and watch Rafiel, and even before she heard the end of his song, Nailah was sound asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Nailah was woken the next day feeling rested and relaxed, but confused. She realized that he must’ve sung her a lullaby. She wasn’t sure whether to be happy, or upset that she didn’t get to hear the entire song.

Volug gave her a questioning look, but she waved her hand. It wasn’t important.

She gave herself a good shake, fluffing her tail and stretching her ears. “Alright. One more Feasting Day. Are the preparations for the bonfire coming along?” She turned to the tray of food next to her bed, eating as she talked.

“Everything is going as scheduled,” Volug said. “The wood has been moved to the square, and the water jugs are being prepared to douse it if necessary.”

“The musicians?”

“The ones working for the palace are currently practicing in the courtyard. And the dancers are in the ballroom.”

“Excellent. You are the best second a queen could ask for, Volug.”

He gave her a small bow, then quirked an eyebrow, looking up at her mischievously. “You certainly don’t make my job easy, my queen.”

She matched his expression. “I have to keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

They parted ways, attending to their own business. Nailah rubbed her face. “That bird makes me feel stupid sometimes,” she murmured to herself. “I just never know what to expect. I wish I could figure him out.” With a shake, she composed herself and continued on out into the courtyard to oversee the musicians’ practice.

+++

That night, Rafiel watched with interest as Nailah stretched in her dancing clothes. Her top was loose, with an open collar and short sleeves that swayed when she did. Instead of her half-tunic, she wore a soft skirt that stopped at her ankles and jangled with the bells hanging from her belt. She had gold bands on her ankles and wrists, and her regal collar around her neck.

“What do you think?” she asked, taking a few steps to show him the movement of the clothing. “The dancers will have similar clothes, but they have scarves attached to their wrists. You’ll see, they’re amazing to watch.”

“You are as striking as you always are, my queen.”

Nailah looked at him, searching his face for some trace of sarcasm, but couldn’t find any. “Would you like me to show you how to dance?” she asked. “You don’t strike me as someone who does it often.”

For a moment, he looked uncomfortable. “Herons don’t really dance on their feet,” he said quietly.

Nailah hesitated, suddenly afraid to ask the question on her mind, but she did anyway. “So, why don’t you fly?”

She instantly regretted it, watching the way his face crumpled and how his arms moved up to hold himself tightly. His right wing twitched sporadically, not moving in sync with the other. “I can’t,” he croaked. “I can’t anymore.”

Without a second thought, she was hugging him, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words. “I’m sorry, Rafiel. I shouldn’t have asked.” She pulled away, sliding her hands down to his. “Come here,” she said. “I’ll show you how wolves dance, and then you can make it your own.”

 And he smiled at her with watery eyes, squeezing her hands tightly. “I’m your willing student.”

+++

By the time the sun set, Nailah and Rafiel were already tired from dancing, but they didn’t mind. It was the good kind of tired, the kind of ache that carried with it memories of exhilaration. Nailah was surprised at how well he kept up, considering how frail he’d seemed at first, but perhaps creatures meant to fly were stronger than they appeared in some ways.

When they left the palace, the musicians were already playing, wolves and jackals plucking at stringed instruments with carefully-trimmed claws, beorc playing them with bows and beating on drums. Several men and women stood among them, raising their voices in wordless song, shaking tambourines

It was an infectious melody, and despite the hours of dancing behind her, Nailah found herself swaying to the beat, making the bells at her hip rattle in time to the music.

The other people in the square were dancing too, holding hands and laughing and singing. Nailah held out her hand to Rafiel and smiled. “Up for more dancing?”

He smiled back at her and took her hand. “Of course.”

Rafiel had a sense of elegance to him, even when dancing as fast as the music demanded. He always seemed to know exactly where his hands and feet needed to go, while Nailah felt like she was flailing, her arms doing one thing while her legs did another.

The professional dancers moved through the crowd, dancing with the people without partners, showing small children the proper steps, supporting the elderly as they tried to recreate the dances of their youths.

Nailah lost herself in the music as she did every year—letting go of her responsibilities, her embarrassment, her inhibitions. But this year, Rafiel danced beside her, their hands touching, their bodies moving in different ways, yet they were complementary—one with grace, the other with passion.

And the queen was struck at once by the beauty of Rafiel’s grin. His pink lips drawn back from straight white teeth, those bright green eyes squinted with happiness and framed in gold lashes. Without thinking, she took his other hand in hers, and brought her lips to his.

They stopped dancing as Rafiel detached himself, taking a few steps back, the smile gone from his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… I can’t…” He clasped his hands and bowed, before walking back to the palace.

Nailah watched him go, her tail curving between her legs. Volug appeared at her side. Suddenly, the music seemed far away, hidden by layers of silence. Volug put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s time for the bonfire,” he said.

She looked up at the sky and nodded. There was the moon, directly overhead. With a sigh and a shake, she brought herself back, folding the hurt and confusion up into a box and locking it away. Curious onlookers watched her, wondering what had happened. She threw them a smile and held up her arms, cuing the musicians to stop. “It’s time for the end of these joyous days! But worry not, they will come again next year! Come, let us bid them a proper goodbye!” she announced loudly. Volug handed her a lit torch and she carried it to the fountain square. The stage was gone, put away for the year and in its place was a great pile of kindling. “For Nyr, who guides us and protects us. We venerate you and your Shield, the symbol of your love,” she recited, the adult lips around her mouthing the same words. “Please accept these offers of our joy.” She tossed the torch into the pile, flames jumping up the oil poured there, racing up to the peak. Incense, laced through the wood, released their sweet scents and the purple smoke coiled up into the starry sky.

One by one, the townsfolk brought their offerings, usually leftover food from the festival, but others brought more meaningful ones. A laguz woman, holding the hand of a young Halfling, brought a beautifully embroidered shirt. “My husband died,” she told Nailah, staring into the flames. “Disease came swift in the night and swept him away.” She brought the shirt to her lips, then fed it to the flames, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “Guide his spirit, Great Nyr. And I thank you for the gift of our child. Thank you for protecting him.”

The little boy helped his mother walk away as the next person came up, but Nailah found her eyes following her, admiring her courage—both for choosing to give up such a vital part of herself for her child, and to offer such a precious thing to Nyr as _thanks_ for that child, despite her loss.

The image of that woman stayed with her long after the fire died down and the last of the townsfolk drifted home.

Water was poured over the remaining charcoal, hissing as it turned to steam. This cloud was white, and reminded Nailah of Rafiel’s wings. “Do you think I should talk to him tonight, or wait until morning, Volug?”

Her second thought for a moment. “I’d say tonight, if he isn’t asleep.”

“I don’t think he is. At least, I wouldn’t be.” She threw her head back and howled, releasing all of the emotion she had pent up inside. Volug joined her, as did other wolves still awake. They might not know why, but they didn’t need to—knowing that their queen was in distress and needed their support was enough. Even some beorc joined in the howl. Their voices were soft, their throats and tongues not quite sure how to move, but they were there.

Feeling the love of her people behind her, Nailah returned to the castle, determined to understand what had gone wrong.

+++

She followed his scent up the steps and down the hall into his room. But, like she’d thought, he wasn’t asleep. He was sitting on the bed, most of his robe hanging off the back of a chair, clothed only in undergarments. His head was bowed over the hands in his lap, which he opened and closed in a gentle rhythm.

He stirred when she entered and closed the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, looking up at her through his lashes.

She shook her head and pulled the chair over to the bedside, sitting down so they could see eye to eye. “What did I do wrong, Rafiel?”

“You didn’t do anything, Queen Nailah… The fault is completely mine. I just…” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, stiffening when the movement ended too soon. He looked up at the canopy of the bed, obviously searching for words. “I can’t… I can’t be _happy_ ,” he said at last.

Nailah leaned forward, cupping her chin in her hands. “Why not?”

“It’s a long story, and I know you’re tired…”

“There is nothing I’d rather do right now than hear your troubles, Rafiel. Please?”

There was silence for a moment, before Rafiel sat up straight, took a deep breath and began his story.

+++

 “I’m from a forest called Serenes, which was once home to all of my clan—all of the herons. It was its own nation, but it existed within the political boundaries of a beorc country called Begnion.” He paused, then answered Nailah’s unspoken question. “Yes, all of the countries I know of are either exclusively laguz or beorc. There is limited interaction between the laguz country of Gallia and the beorc country of Crimea, but it’s spearheaded by Crimea’s king, and isn’t popular among the people. Begnion also has a history of using its proximity to Serenes to manipulate the bird countries of Kilvas and Phoenicis, because they are self-appointed protectors of Serenes. … ‘Were’, I suppose now.

“Begnion is ruled by both a queen of sorts, known as the apostle, as well as a council of nobles called the Senate. The apostle is considered by the beorc of Begnion to be the voice of the goddess Ashera, so they have a lot of love for her.” His face tightened, but he forged on. “A few months ago, the apostle was murdered. I don’t know by whom, but I imagine it was some sort of plot by the Senate. They had a tense relationship with her. …No matter who held the blade, a rumor began that it was we herons who had killed her.”

“That’s preposterous!” Nailah exclaimed, her fur on edge. “If the other herons are anything like you, then that’s absolutely ridiculous!”

He nodded. “It was a ridiculous accusation, but the beorc were desperate for closure.” He closed his eyes, a shudder rocking through him. “I understand that. And yet, it is so _hard_ not to hate them for what they did, and I wasn’t even there to witness it…” He knitted his fingers together, squeezing tightly. “They came in the night, bearing torches, swords, knives… anything they could use. They burned what would catch, and… and cut what would bleed.” Tears swelled in his eyes, and his words began to run together, but Nailah held onto every syllable.

“I wasn’t there, and yet I can still _feel_ it, deep in my bones. I can feel every scream in my throat, every break of brittle bone, the heat of all-consuming fire on my skin. I can smell the tang of blood and smoke, hear the cries of mothers and fathers watching their children be… be hacked to p-pieces…” The tears flowed freely now, and he shuddered with every breath. But still, he continued.

“I had just recovered from serious illness, but I _had_ to go. All I could think about was my family. My father and mother, my little brother and sister… I had already lost one sister, and I _had_ to go and make sure they were okay…” He folded in on himself, almost incomprehensible now. “But I wasn’t recovered. My wings didn’t listen to me. I was blown off-course, and became horribly lost. Before I knew it, I was circling the Desert of Death, with no idea of how I’d gotten there and I was so tired… …I must’ve fainted, and fell, because I next remember waking here.”

Nailah moved to the bed and held him close, waiting for him to regain some semblance of composure. “So, you don’t know what happened to your family?”

“I can only assume they’re dead, along with everyone else.”

“Oh, Rafiel…” Nailah tucked his head under her chin, rubbing his shoulders.

“So, I can’t be happy. I can’t enjoy my time here with you, not with the memory of so much death and the weight of being… being the last of my kind.” There was a finality to the words, like he had never spoken them before, and was just realizing how true it was.

“You don’t know that.” But there was little conviction in her words. After all, what did she know?

“Is it better to be pessimistic and be happily surprised by the truth? Or be optimistic and be crushed by it?”

“Never let go of hope, Rafiel.” He stroked his hair. “Someone watched over you, whether it was your Ashera or my Nyr. You know what? I wouldn’t even be surprised if it was Ashuna who guided you here. But whoever it was, they brought me to you and allowed you this chance to continue living. Are you going to squander that by wallowing in sadness? And who’s to say that same god didn’t protect your family as well?”

Finally, a small smile returned to his face, and he put a hand over hers, snuggling against her chest. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe… I’m supposed to be happy. Not forget to mourn all those who died, of course, but… to carry on my family’s legacy as best I can, until the day I join them.”

“You’re allowed to be sad,” Nailah told him. “But promise me you won’t let it get in the way of you living your life, okay?”

“As you wish, my queen.” He sat up and kissed her. “I am sorry for earlier.”

“I’m not angry, especially now that I understand why.”

He nodded, and ran his fingers over the features of her face, tangling them in her hair, gently touching the cloth hanging over her eye. “Does it hurt?”

“My eye isn’t missing.”

“What? Then why do you cover it like this? I asked Volug, but he said only you could do the story justice.”

“They call it the ‘Evil Eye’, though I don’t think it’s really evil. I got it while exploring some ruins in the west.”

“Can I see it?”

“You’ll be paralyzed if you do.”

“What?”

“If you look into it, you won’t be able to move for an hour or so.”

His hand still moved over the cloth uncertainly. Clearly, he was still curious.

Nailah sighed. “Do you want to see it so badly?”

He nodded. “But only if it’s okay with you.”

“Here, lie down. At least you can be comfortable.” It took some maneuvering, but Rafiel lay down on his back, wings spread out on either side of him. Being careful not to pinch them under her hands or knees, Nailah leaned over him, her legs on either side of his hips. “Okay, lift the cloth.”

His cool, soft hands did one more, untying it and pulling it from her face. Slowly, she let the eye open, knowing just what it looked like. The once-green iris had turned gold, the sclera deep gray. The pupil was snake-like, a black slit up the middle that shrunk against the firelight in the room. Encircling the eye, black markings, like a Halfling’s Mark, shone, resembling a snake’s poised fangs.

Rafiel gazed at it for a moment before stiffening, his arm still outstretched. Carefully, she folded it back down and closed his eyes, getting to her feet and covering her eye again. Surely tomorrow he would want to hear the story of how she got it.

Nailah went to sleep that night wondering how best to tell her tale, and marveling at the memory of his touch.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was just peeking through the curtains, turning the walls ruby-red when Nailah was woken by a knock on the door. She grumbled a “come in”, wondering who would be bothering her at this time of the morning after the Feasting Days. Not Volug. Volug just walked in.

To her surprise, it was Rafiel, looking anything but groggy, despite the early hour. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, shrinking a bit in the doorway. “Should I let you go back to sleep? It is quite early…”

Nailah shook her head and yawned, a short whine escaping her throat. “Come in, Rafiel. Though, for future reference, post-holiday means the queen gets to sleep in a little.”

“Noted.” Rafiel walked fully into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. He stood there, his hands clasped in front of him.

Nailah yawned again and adjusted her pillows so she could sit up, making sure to keep the blanket over her chest. Not that she was particularly embarrassed by the fact that she slept naked, but she got the feeling Rafiel would be. No need to kick the hornets’ nest, so to speak. She waved him toward a chair, and he sat down, settling his wings over each armrest. “I’m guessing bird laguz tend to use stools,” Nailah commented wryly.

Rafiel smiled. “They do make things easier. Benches are common as well.”

“I see. So, what brings you here so bright and early?”

He fidgeted with his robe, his cheeks flushing pink. “If it’s no trouble, I’d like to hear how you acquired your so-called ‘evil’ eye.”

She smiled. “Thought so.”

“I know.” He lowered his eyes, though his face remained pink.

“Then why are you… Oh.” She ran her hand over the blanket. “Would you like me to dress first?”

“…yes. Um, if it’s not any trouble!”

Nailah chuckled. “It’s fine. Hand me the clothes on top of the dresser, and I’ll dress behind the canopy.”

He quickly grabbed the folded garments and placed them on the bed, helping Nailah draw the curtains around herself. It took her a few minutes, but she managed to make herself decent, all naughty bits covered. She climbed out of the bed and stretched, giving herself a good shake. “Let’s talk on the roof and enjoy the morning before it gets too hot.”

The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange as they walked through the doorway. The city was just starting to wake up. Down below, people were beginning to shuffle out of buildings, congregating in the fountain square, where various stalls were being put up.

This time it was Nailah who answered an unspoken question. “There’s almost always a market in that square,” she said, pointing it out to Rafiel. “If you want, we could go down there later. It’s mostly food in the morning, to serve the inns and taverns, but in the afternoon, there are other things, like jewelry and clothing. If you haven’t noticed, we here in Oasisi like our jewelry.” She winked at him and he smiled.

“I had noticed that.”

Nailah grinned, then seemed to get back to business. “You want the story of my eye, right?”

“Yes, please.”

“Well, take a seat and get yourself comfortable, because it’s not a short tale.”

+++

“When I was young—no longer a pup, but not yet an adult—I spent a lot of time exploring the ruins to the west. The scholars say they’re remnants of a tribe called the Zunanma, but there isn’t much known about them, except that their alphabet was a precursor to ours, and presumably the language too.

“I’ll admit though, I wasn’t looking for the history. I was young; I was more interested in the supposed treasure hoarded up and locked away. So, I found another wolf as interested as I was, and together we travelled west to a big castle—well, it was probably more a temple, thinking about it—that I’d discovered, but didn’t want to explore alone.”

“That was how you met Volug?” Rafiel asked.

“Yes, it was.” Nailah leaned against the castle wall, looking up at the lightening sky. “Gods, was it so long ago? But, I digress.

“The temple was the largest ruin I’d ever seen, and half-buried in sand on the outside, which belied how big it really was. Volug and I were floored when we finally got inside by squeezing through on of the exposed windows. The stone was dark, and there were carvings all along the walls. I couldn’t read any of the words, though I remember how odd the figures looked; like laguz half-way through a transformation. There were wolves, but their whole bodies were hairy, and their feet and hands were paws—even while they stood on two legs and lacked snouts.” She looked at Rafiel thoughtfully. “There were birds too. Just as tall as the wolves, but with great feathery arms instead of wings, and feathers instead of hair. Some of them had beaks too. I never thought about it before, but I bet they were the ancestors of we laguz. Wow, the Zunanma must be even older than I’d imagined.”

“I think you’re drifting off topic again, my queen,” Rafiel said gently.

“Oh, you’re right. Forgive me. Anyway, there was a staircase hidden behind some rubble, so Volug and I transformed to give ourselves more footing.” She paused, chuckling a little at the pun, but continued before Rafiel could comment. “And to make better use of our noses. I noticed a strange scent coming from out of the stairwell. It was… thick, but not stale. Hrm, I guess it smelled… earthy? Organic?” Her tail twitched angrily. “Why are there not enough words in this language for smells?! If the Zunanma did create this language, their noses must’ve been half as good as a real wolf’s.”

Rafiel blinked at her.

She blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good storyteller. So, the smell from the stairwell was organic. It smelled like plants and soil, even though this temple was in the middle of the desert. By the time we got over the rubble and to the top of the stairs, I knew Volug had smelled it too. He—” Nailah paused, searching for a word, then just decided to make the sound, a soft whimper in the back of her throat. “—telling me that he didn’t trust it, but I was too curious, so down I went. Volug scampered down after me a moment later, probably afraid to be alone, though if you asked him, I’m sure he would swear up and down that wasn’t the case.” She winked.

“The stairs spiraled down, down, down, farther than I’d ever imagined. Toward the bottom, the stone seemed to _squish_ , which terrified me until I realized that I was stepping on some sort of plant that had grown over the steps. That’s when we reached the bottom, and entered the strangest room I’ve ever seen. Huge plants grew over the floor, climbing up the stone walls toward some kinds of glowing runes written in the Zunanma language.

“At the end of the room, which was a sort of long hall, there was a statue, carved in the same kind of blocky style as the carvings on the wall in the upper room. It depicted some sort of creature, with a scaly reptilian body, but a bird’s head. Wings resembling those of a bat were spread on either side of its torso, and its eyes were very intricately carved, right down to the lines within the irises.

“Volug hung back, staying near the stairs, but I went forward to examine the statue. The earthy smell was emanating from near it. Of course, the plants smelled too, but this particular scent was more… animal, more… alive. Eventually, I untransformed so I could stand up and use my hands, running my fingers over the statue, searching for some lever or catch. I found that the eyes were actual buttons of a sort, and upon pressing them in, the whole statue shuddered and moved aside.

“That’s when I heard the low hissing coming from the room that had been hidden behind the statue, and caught my first glimpse of the creature formally trapped within. Just the flash of scales, but that was all I needed. I transformed quickly, and leapt aside before it could strike. Volug charged forward, growling at the creature, drawing its attention while I got my bearings.

“As he looked into its eyes though, I watched Volug’s muscles freeze up, leaving him unable to do anything but whine at me through his clenched jaw. Quickly as I could, I got on top of the creature, preventing it from devouring my new friend. Acting on the assumption that, like the statue, the eyes were the key, I jumped up onto its head, driving claws into one of its eyes, causing it to screech and flail wildly, trying to dislodge me.”

Rafiel grimaced as he imagined the scene, so to spare him somewhat, Nailah tried to fast forward through the more gruesome details of the fight.

“Once I got my teeth into its neck, it was all over. I jumped down as it collapsed to the ground, making the whole structure shudder. I went to Volug, who was still paralyzed. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, or if he would be okay. After a few unsuccessful tries to get him to move, I returned to the corpse and snarled at it. The eye that I hadn’t damaged stared at me—liquid gold and snake-like.

“That’s when I felt the burning begin in my right eye—the mirror of its injury. It felt like I’d gone mad. I was thrashing around, howling and whining and crying, trying to use my back legs to get the pain out of my eye—though, of course, the scratching only made it worse.

“Finally, I passed out from the pain, happily falling into the void.

“When I came to, Volug was free and licking my face, trying to wake me. Somewhere in the mess, I had untransformed, but it was a child’s untransformation, leaving my clothing in a heap beside me, rather than _on_ me.”

Rafiel blushed, and Nailah smirked at him. “Volug was a gentleman though, and had covered me with my skirt to preserve some sense of modesty, and turned away while I dressed quickly.

“Once I was decent, I looked around for the corpse, but couldn’t find anything but a two-legged body, stretched out where the monster had been, blood pooled around its neck. It was ancient, the skin hanging so loose that it almost seemed like it was as liquid as the blood.”

“The creature was… some sort of laguz?” Rafiel asked, his eyebrows knotted together.

“That’s what I have to suppose. I realized that the creature’s power had transferred to me when I brushed my hair out of my face and looked at Volug, who promptly froze again. That’s when I tore up some of my clothes to make a crude eyepatch, so that I wouldn’t paralyze anyone by accident.”

She sighed and put her hands behind her head, looking out at the still-rising sun. “It’s been a bit of a blessing and a curse, really. It makes hunting a lot easier, and probably is the key to gaining the support and trust of the people of Hatari so quickly, but it’s a burden as well. My depth perception obviously hasn’t been the same since, so I’ve come to rely much more on my nose and ears to determine distances. And it’s hard sometimes, knowing that I always have to be on guard, in case my patch slips, or anything like that. Believe me, it took quite a bit of practice before I could transform normally—without ripping or losing my clothes—while keeping the patch in place and visible, so that it still does its job.

“That’s why I have this one in particular.” She touched the cloth cover, running her fingertips over and under the multiple layers. “Having three separate pieces means that when I transform, it shifts without pulling away from my eye completely, which was a problem with ‘regular’ eye patches.”

Rafiel was quiet for a moment, before walking forward and holding her hand in both of his own. “That was quite an adventure! I’m glad that both you and Volug were able to escape with relatively little harm.” Maybe sensing her unease, he also smiled gently and said, “Your eye is beautiful. ‘Evil’ or not, I don’t regret seeing it.” And to reinforce his words, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against the covers, his touch as light as a butterfly’s wings. “Thank you for telling me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The laguz(?) monster was a cockatrice, for the curious


	8. Chapter 8

It soon became a regular thing, the giving of stories. Rafiel told quiet, humorous tales of his family most days, while Nailah regaled him with the epics of her and Volug's many travels together. But one day, he told her about why he had not been present for the Serenes Massacre, his voice calm and steady as he explained the concept of laguz slavery and the value of herons as trophies of wealth and power, his eyes fixed on the far wall.

Nailah had to excuse herself from his presence after that, pacing quickly to the exercise yard so she could transform with a violent snarl and attack every practice dummy she could find. She had never before hated beorc, but something in her now wanted to.

It was hours before she felt calm enough to return.

When she did, tired and limping, sweat and dirt streaking her skin, Rafiel was there to sing her to sleep.

+++

Days and weeks became months, and soon Rafiel was considered just as permanent a fixture of the queen's retinue as Volug. Nailah doted upon him, making sure he stayed well fed and dressed. And Rafiel in turn began to think of Hatari as his home.

He began to walk with the healers while Nailah worked, singing to ease the pain of those who were beyond saving and to comfort those who were left behind.

Sometimes he would come back to the palace weak and trembling, his energy completely drained and his heart heavy.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Nailah asked him one night, brushing aside the hair that was starting to grow past his shoulders. “Surely you have had enough of death for many lifetimes.”

He rested his head in the crook of her neck, staring out the window at the rising moon. “There was no one to sing for me,” he said quietly. “It is a despair I wouldn't wish on even the foulest of creatures. So, I will sing for them, until I can sing no more.”

And Nailah, certain her voice would betray the sob caught in her throat, said nothing and held him gently until morning.

That was the day, perhaps, that she truly realized that, for all his fragility, Rafiel had a heart and soul stronger than the toughest of beorc steel.

+++

For the anniversary of his arrival, he worked in secret with one of the palace seamstresses, designing new robes that incorporated the circle motifs of the clothes in Oasisi, keeping it a secret from Nailah with Volug's aid.

He showed her in the dawn light of the fateful day, standing in the light that spilled through her open window, sunlight sparkling in his hair and in his eyes. “I have chosen to call this city my home. I only hope it will accept me in kind.”

And Nailah stood, caring not for her nakedness and walked to him, brushing the backs of her fingers across his suddenly flushed face, smoothing the fabric of the new robes over his shoulders.

Suddenly filled with resolve, Nailah went to her clothing trunk and dressed, draping herself in her queen's finery, until the gold of Rafiel's hair had a genuine rival in the gold of her jewelry. Then she knelt back before the chest and removed a belt, bright teal and golden-tasseled. Rafiel seemed to wait for her to put it on, but she refrained, weighing it in her hands.

He did not know its significance, but it had been made by Nailah's mother, a gift intended for her betrothed. Nailah's mother had died before she saw her daughter wed, so the belt was heavy both with gold and with meaning.

If Rafiel knew what was coming, he didn't show it.

Nailah looked at him. “I would have you wear this, but you must listen first to what I have to say.”

Rafiel tilted his head, looking genuinely curious. “You are very serious, Queen Nailah. Is something troubling you?”

Nailah shook her head and swallowed dryly. “There is nothing amiss, though what I am about to ask could lead me to tragedy.” She took a deep breath, then looked at Rafiel, meeting his gaze. “I ask for your heart, and for our lives to become one. I pledge to protect you from anything that seeks your harm, and to love you for as long as I have breath in my lungs.”

For a heart-shattering moment, Rafiel looked torn. “Queen Nailah... I-I am not... I am an orphan in a strange land, what have I to offer in return for your love?”

“I ask for nothing but your love, freely given.”

Rafiel raised his eyes to her, tears in his eyes. “Very well, Queen Nailah. You have it. I vow to be loyal to you and this land until the sun fails to rise.”

Nailah tied the belt around his waist and they embraced.

Their first kiss was soft, a whisper of lips touching, but the queen was not one to remain chaste for long.

+++

Fourteen years went by. Nailah competed for the title of queen and won easily, sweeping all three trials. Rafiel stood beside her as they watched the candle of Nyr's favor, the small flame burning bright and strong, the light flickering across the statue's kind face.

Nailah swore she felt the god's presence, strong and solid at her side, and yet, she felt a sense of wariness overcome her.

Something was going to change in the coming decades, and though she did not know what, it was clear that it would change everything.

 


	9. Epilogue

It began in the desert, as it seemed all of Nailah's adventures did.

Rafiel had woken early, his eyes wide and luminous in the pale light before dawn.

“What's wrong?” she'd asked him, but he'd only shaken his head and stood, dressing quickly and leaving the room.

At a loss, Nailah hurried to follow as he made his way out of the palace and down the city streets, seemingly oblivious to the worried stares he got from vendors preparing for the morning market.

He reached the city gates and stepped out, his bare feet sinking into the soft sand. Raising his head, he stood straight and still, as if watching for something in the dark of the western sky.

“There is a voice,” he said as Nailah came to his side. “A voice across the desert.”

Nailah tilted her head, twisting her ears in every direction, but heard nothing of the sort.

“It is faint, but it is there, I hear it.” His eyes were shining. “It's calling me.”

“Calling you to do what?” Nailah was rightly wary of mystical voices calling from across a desert that none had been able to cross alive.

Besides Rafiel.

“I am to return to my homeland. But it does not say why.”

Nailah took his hand. “Then Volug and I will accompany you.”

Rafiel looked at her for the first time that morning, surprised. “But, my queen, who will rule Hatari?”

“The Council can manage for some time. You are too precious to me for me to let you go alone.” She brought his hand to her lips. “Come, we will begin preparations.”

He smiled. “Yes, my queen.”

+++

A week later, Nailah draped her royal cape over Rafiel's shoulders to protect him from the harsh sunlight and triple-checked their supplies for the journey. “Can you still hear it?” she asked him.

He nodded, looking out at the endless sea of sand.

Except it wasn't endless, Nailah reminded herself. Beyond it lay Rafiel's homeland, a land whose existence threw all of their old stories into question. Nailah was eager to learn the truth.

“Then we depart. Lead the way, Rafiel.”

And so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Radiant Dawn happened.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
